


Blacks Coffees and Hot Chocolates

by StarlightPhoenix



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Shady (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley's Plants (Good Omens), Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Nice Crowley (Good Omens), No beta we fall like Crowley, POV Outsider, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), people think aziraphale is mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23953540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightPhoenix/pseuds/StarlightPhoenix
Summary: Since opening her coffeeshop in Soho, Jess had a few regulars. Anthony came in every day and ordered one black coffee and one hot chocolate. They were Jess' favorite regular.Mr. Fell, on the other hand, was her least favorite regular. He was rude, he insulted her scones, and she was sure he was mafia.She didn't realize that her sweet Anthony was with that nasty Mr. Fell.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 118
Kudos: 854
Collections: Outstanding Outsider POVs





	Blacks Coffees and Hot Chocolates

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this tumblr post.](https://cleverlittlejay.tumblr.com/post/616953488213164032/there-are-people-who-like-crowley-he-finds-it)

Jess had a simple dream. She was going to open a queer coffee shop. One degree in business management later, she stood in front of her new coffee shop in Soho. 

_ LGBeanTea Coffee and Tea Shop, _ the sign declared. 

She was still moved to tears when she remembered that LGBeanTea was hers. 

Since opening, Jess started recognizing her regulars. 

There was a group of five school kids who entered with a nervous excitement the first time they visited. They would come every Friday and order iced coffees. Even if the dead of winter, covered in snow, they would order iced coffees, and Jess had to admire their dedication to the aesthetic. 

One patron sat in the corner with their laptop everyday, always ordering a latte and blueberry scone. They would nod in solidarity every time they entered, and that was that. 

One patron was proof that appearances were deceiving. Not in a gender or sexuality way, but in a leather jacket way. They looked like they belonged in the mafia, dressed sharply in black with a tattoo of a snake on their face. She would have worried about them, if not for the same nod of solidarity when they first walked in. They looked at the flags in the window, nodded in support, and then ordered a black coffee and a hot chocolate, both under the name “Anthony.” On Fridays, they also ordered a chocolate croissant.

Anthony was her favorite patron. She asked for their pronouns once. They looked momentarily surprised before shrugging and saying that they change a lot. They later bought a genderqueer pin with their usual coffee and hot chocolate. 

Along with their usual order, Anthony complimented her plants. A real coffee shop, Jess thought, should always have plants. They were scattered throughout the shop, positioned for the perfect sunlight-to-indirect-light ratio they needed. Anthony complimented them every visit, telling her that she was doing a great job with them. 

It was a familiar routine. 

Enter, one black coffee, one hot chocolate, compliment the plants, leave. 

She looked forward to it everyday. 

Other patrons, she did not like. 

They were the ones who were rude to her baristas, mocked the flags and pins, never left a tip no matter how many times they visited. Sure, she paid her baristas enough that they don’t need a tip, but she recognized those who didn’t tip only because it was beneath them. 

One patron was her business neighbor. Technically a few shops down, Jess’ impression of Mr. Fell was subpar. 

She wanted to say it was the overbearing personality, the fact that he called her “dear girl” like too many other men, that he called her other baristas “dear” too, and they were young, barely in uni, too young to deal with workplace harassment. 

She wanted to say that it was his cold smile when she first entered his shop, the insistence that she leave as soon as she stepped in. 

It could have been that he once ordered a scone and then said he’d had better in France. 

It might have been the rumors that shady men went through his shop, some disappearing after their visit. Mr. Fell was known for making a profit without selling a single book. She wanted nothing to do with men like Mr. Fell. 

Thankfully, he didn’t visit often. 

She was content with her usual regulars. 

-

Anthony entered at exactly noon. 

She heard them order from the back, desperately hoping she could save the cookies that she left in the oven for too long. 

By the time their name was called, she knew that the cookies were unsalvageable. Burnt to a crisp, Jess would have to write that they were sold out to avoid the embarrassment of explaining that the espresso machine drowned out the oven timer. 

She abandoned the cookies to greet Anthony. 

“Hey, Jess,” they grinned. “Love how the spider ivy is growing. It’s getting long now.”

“Thanks,” she smiled. The spider ivy  _ was _ getting longer, leaf tips brushing the counter. 

“Hey, uh, I have a problem,” Anthony said. 

A spike of worry hit her. Anthony was not one to admit their problems. They were the definition of cool and collected. People like Anthony did not have problems, and she didn’t want to imagine what caused them trouble now. 

“You see,” they continued, rubbing the back of their neck, “I have this fern that’s getting yellow and I already threatened it but it didn’t get any better and now I have to get rid of it before the other plants get any ideas. Do you want it?”

She blinked. 

“Is… is that a codeword for something?”

“What, no. Do you want a fern? Free, ‘course. Consider it a prisoner exchange, if you want. I can’t keep it anymore. The other plants’ll start thinking it’s okay to slack off.”

“Are… are you sure that’s not a codeword?” 

“Promise,” he assured. “Just a plant.” 

Well. A coffee shop could never have too many plants. LGBeanTea was already covered in green, she might as well rehome a fern that Anthony was offering.

“Sure, why not. When can I pick it up?”

Anthony waved her off. “I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

“Where do you recommend putting it? And it’s going yellow? Might need to let the soil dry out first.”

“Nah, it’s just a rebellious plant,” Anthony dismissed. “Acting out is all. Just remind it that it’s getting a second chance and needs to grow better or else.”

“Anthony,” she said cautiously. “Did you actually threaten your plant?”

From their still expression, she imagined them blinking owlishly behind those sunglasses. “‘Course I did. You have to threaten them or else they don’t know who’s in charge.”

She didn’t respond to that. 

Anthony grinned and grabbed their black coffee and hot chocolate. “Well, gotta go. I'll bring the fern tomorrow.”

And then they were gone, off to meet whoever the second drink was meant for. 

-

True to their word, Anthony returned the next day with a fern. 

Personally, Jess couldn’t see the problem. Sure, a few fronds were slightly yellow, but it wasn’t anything a few days of dry soil couldn’t fix. 

Anthony placed the fern on the counter and bent down to look at it at eye level. 

“This is your last chance,” Anthony hissed, and Jess realized that they were not kidding about the threats. “Grow better or she’s going to rip you apart, leaf by leaf, until you’re nothing but dying roots in a pot, understand?”

A barista, Myles, stared, and Jess honestly could not blame him. 

Anthony threatened their plants. Actual, real plants that weren’t codewords for something else. 

She wondered if the negative energy was what caused the yellowing. 

Anthony straightened. “It should be good now,” they assured her, and she nodded wordlessly. “Can I have a black coffee and and a hot chocolate? Oh! And can you write ‘Angel’ on the hot chocolate?” 

Jess looked away from the plant. “Angel?”

Anthony was suspiciously red. “Yeah. I’m trying something.” 

She beamed. “I’m sure they’ll  _ love _ it.”

She added extra chocolate and whipped cream on the drink for good measure. Anthony’s Angel deserved the best. Anyone Anthony liked deserved the best. She was tempted to draw a little heart by the nickname, but she didn’t want to overstep. 

Anthony left with the drinks and she silently hoped the date would go well. They deserved it.

-

At exactly 10am, Jess noticed a familiar figure enter the shop. 

Dressed in the usual beige and tartan, Mr. Fell smiled at her. It was, she thought, a little too bright to be genuine. 

“Good morning, my dear.”

She returned a tight smile.  _ God _ she hated that name. “Good morning. What can I get for you?” 

He studied the menu intently. Jess swore that if she heard another comment about how her desserts were good but that he’d had better in France or Rome or wherever, she would scream in the back room. Mr. Fell made those comments often. He’d casually mention foreign countries, and she wondered how he was so well-travelled before deciding that she did not want to know why a man like Mr. Fell travelled. 

“Perhaps just a slice of your coffee cake,” he decided. 

She smiled a customer service smile and nodded. 

She wanted to say that she gave him a to-go bag because it was his routine. She could have asked if he wanted it plated to sit and relax, could have nodded when he gave his usual answer of wanting it packaged. But the thought of Mr. Fell staying was too much to bear, so she packed the cake without asking. 

“Thank you, my dear,” he beamed. 

She returned the smile and it stayed in place until Mr. Fell left. Then, she rolled her eyes and went to the back room to huff in private. 

She stayed in the back for two hours. As much as she enjoyed interacting with customers, she ran a business and businesses needed paperwork. She never needed to worry over her budgeting, always making enough for her expenses, but paperwork was paperwork. It made the world go round. 

She only left when she realized it would be noon soon. 

Anthony walked in as soon as the hour changed. She once joked that she could set a clock based on their schedule. The next day, they were three minutes late. The day after that, they entered at exactly noon again, haughtily announcing that they refused to change their schedule for her. 

Anthony repeated their usual order. “And can you write ‘Angel’ on the hot chocolate?”

Jess waited until Anthony paid and Myles the barista went to work. “So,” she said slyly. “Angel liked the drink?”

“Said it was the best hot chocolate he ever had,” Anthony answered. 

_ He, _ Jess mentally noted. 

“Anyway, how’s the fern? Behaving?”

She pointed to the other side of the counter. The fern sat in a place of honor to be admired by patrons when they went up to collect their orders. The yellow was already fading into a healthy green. In a few weeks, she might need to repot it to keep up with the growth.

“It’s doing great! Just needed some love and affection, that’s all.”

Anthony pulled a face. “Don’t be too nice or it’ll start acting up.”

She ignored that. 

Myles came back to give the drinks and Jess suddenly remembered something. “Do you want me to draw a heart on this?”

Anthony turned a bright red, almost matching their hair. “What? No. No! Why would you do that?”

She felt bad for laughing.

“You’re already calling him Angel, I thought a heart would be a nice touch. I won’t if you don’t want me to,” she added gently. 

Teasing was fine, but Anthony seemed genuinely upset. They were wearing their usual sunglasses, but their head was angled away as if they couldn't meet her eyes. They were still red, tugging at their sleeves, and Jess knew she said too much. 

She let Anthony take the drinks with a mumbled response. They left so quickly that she thought they were running away.

Jess really hoped she didn’t mess things up.

-

She didn’t need to worry.

The next day, at exactly noon, Anthony walked in. 

Jess resisted the urge to hug them. Instead, she said their order was on the house.

“Take the money,” Anthony insisted. They tried to get around her and shove money at Myles who wisely moved away to make the drinks. 

“No. I’m not taking it. Consider it an apology.” 

They tried to shove in into the tip jar next and she snatched up the box, holding it to her chest. Anthony looked around for a possible second tip jar. 

“Jess, take the money. I don’t want it.” 

“I don’t want it either.”

“For Satan’s sake, take the money!”

“I don’t want it!”

The baristas refused to meet her or Anthony’s eyes. The patrons were the opposite, openly staring at Anthony trying to shove money at her and her clutching the tip jar for dear life. The group of schoolkids were whispering in delight at the scene. 

Myles left the drinks on the side counter. 

Anthony glared at her, at Myles, and took their drinks. One black coffee for Anthony and one hot chocolate for Angel. 

They stared her down as they placed the money on the drinks counter. She stared back. 

Anthony left with the drinks. 

Jess realized she was still holding the tip jar and set it down again. 

She also realized that she didn’t ruin their casual friendship. It was a nice realization. 

-

Jess once thought that nothing could ruin her mood when Anthony was in. They were such a delight, and their compliments had her blushing on behalf of the plants. 

Jess must’ve forgotten how much she hated Mr. Fell. 

He entered as Anthony’s drinks were being made, and he went straight to them. 

“Crowley,” Mr. Fell beamed. “Did you get any sweets?”

Anthony turned and smiled. “Just your hot chocolate, Angel.”

Jess stared. 

No. 

It’s wasn’t possible. 

But Anthony was smiling so softly, clearly looking into Mr. Fell’s eyes through the sunglasses. Mr. Fell leaned into Anthony. One possessive hand curled around Anthony’s arm, holding tight. Anthony didn’t seem to notice. They were still smiling, so obviously in love. 

They didn’t know, she realized. They couldn’t. Her sweet Anthony, who brought her plants and paid for the pride pins that the schoolkids clearly wanted but couldn’t afford. They couldn’t know that their Angel wasn’t who he seemed to be, that Mr. Fell was feared throughout Soho for making people disappear.

She watched Anthony collect the drinks, offer the hot chocolate to Mr. Fell with a kiss on the cheek. They left holding hands. Anthony didn’t wave, didn’t compliment her plants, didn’t acknowledge her at all. 

Jess couldn’t sleep that night. Not when she knew what danger Anthony was in. 

-

Antony entered alone. 

They had their usual swagger, didn’t look injured or upset. It made sense, of course. Anthony had been ordering hot chocolates for Mr. Fell for months now. They must’ve gotten skilled at lying.

One black coffee for Anthony and one hot chocolate for Angel. 

She waited until he finished ordering before leaving the counter. They were looking at the phone but pocketed it when they saw her. 

“Jess! You turned that fern around! It’s finally behaving, I see.”

“Can we talk?” She asked. “It’s private.”

They looked confused but nodded anyways. She led them to the back office, closing the door to make sure no wayward customers or employees listened in. She offered a chair, and Anthony looked worried. 

“Hey is everything okay?” They touched her hand, and Jess wanted to cry. They were worried for  _ her, _ as if she was in trouble instead of the other way around. 

“I’m fine,” she assured. “It’s… it’s about Mr. Fell.”

They stiffened at the name, but they didn’t pull back and they didn’t reply. Jess wondered what could have led to such a reaction. Anthony radiated fear, and the man wasn’t even present. She wondered if Anthony thought she was one of Fell’s people, that she might snitch on them. 

“Anthony… You shouldn’t be with him.”

They pulled away. Their voice was blank, devoid of fear but also any other cue as to what they were thinking. “Why not?” 

“Mr. Fell isn’t a good person, Anthony. He’s shady. Rumors say he’s mafia. He never sells his books but he’s as rich as ever. People who enter his shop disappear. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Anthony was confused. She could see it in the lines of their face, in their eyebrows lowered in thought, likely going through their memories to find evidence supporting the truth. 

She went to pat their hand but they pulled back, abruptly standing up. 

“Look,” they said roughly. “You got it all wrong. He’s not a bad person. Thanks for the concern, but I have to go.”

She reached out to stop them, but Anthony was already leaving. She just barely skimmed their sleeve, and then they were gone. 

Anthony never picked up their drinks.

-

Jess worried for a week. She wondered why she never asked Anthony for their number, if she should call the police, what she could possibly tell them that they didn’t already know. They must already know about Mr. Fell if he controlled Soho. Bribes, corrupt officers, so many reasons she couldn't go to the police. She wondered if she could go to Mr. Fell’s bookshop or if that would put Anthony in danger. She couldn’t risk it. She didn’t know  _ what _ to do. 

One week later, Anthony came back. 

They looked nervous, fidgeting with their sleeve, and she wondered what happened since their last meeting.

“We need to talk,” Anthony murmured. 

She led them to the back office again. 

Anthony rubbed their eyes under the sunglasses, looking exhausted. “Look, you have it all wrong.” She wanted to argue, but Anthony kept talking. “He’s not a bad person, Jess. He’s not mafia and he’s not a criminal. He’s… old money. He doesn’t sell his books because he loves them and can afford to keep them. He’s not a bad person.”

She turned the words in her mind. Anthony believed that, and she couldn’t risk them running out again. The rumors, she knew, were rumors for a reason, and one reason was that no one had proof beyond what they swore was true. 

“He’s rude,” she said instead. “He’s condescending. He calls me ‘dear’ and I think it’s gross. He insulted my scones.”

Those were not reasons to believe someone was a criminal, but Anthony already said their piece about that. Criminal or no, Jess tried to understand how someone as nice as Anthony could ever be with someone as nasty as Mr. Fell. 

“What. Your scones?”

“He said he had better,” she said. “In Paris.”

“Oh, Angel…” Anthony lifted a hand to their temple. “He’s like that sometimes. A right bastard, but he’s not a criminal, and he’s not mafia, and I promise he isn’t going to hurt me.”

She wanted to believe them. She had no proof, after all. All she had was Anthony’s word against the gossip of bored business owners. Anthony never had any bruises or injuries. They were always smiling. 

Maybe she was wrong. 

“Come on, Jess, work with me here. How do I convince you that we actually love each other?”

“You  _ love _ him?”

She regretted the question as soon as she asked it. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. And I spent a lot of time pretending I didn’t, but now I can finally say that I love him.”

Anthony was smiling again, that soft smile she saw when Mr. Fell came in that day. She’s seen that smile a million times, always on couples who were in love, and Anthony was no different. 

“Do you promise you’re safe?” She asked quietly. 

“Promise.”

She nodded. “Okay. I believe you.” 

Anthony returned the nod and stood. 

Jess had nothing to say on the walk back to the main room. 

Anthony ordered their usual drinks and left without another word. 

-

She didn’t think she would see Anthony again. After her accusations, she thought she had burned every bridge. She couldn’t even blame them. It was her fault for believing gossip, for never asking Anthony for their side. 

Anthony never looked unhappy. The happiest she ever saw them was with Mr. Fell, or talking about Mr. Fell, or buying drinks for Mr. Fell. Mr. Fell was Anthony’s  _ Angel. _ She offered to draw hearts on his hot chocolate. 

She should’ve just asked. Instead, she ruined everything. 

Jess was in her back office when a barista knocked on the door. She looked up, blinking at the interruption. Myles smiled apologetically. 

“Anthony was asking for you,” Myles explained. 

She resisted the urge to run. Jess power walked to the main room.

There stood Anthony, safe and sound. Beside them was Mr. Fell, eyes awkwardly darting around. 

Anthony spotted her first, walking over and dragging Mr. Fell with them.

“Hey, Jess,” they grinned. 

“Anthony,” she answered.

Anthony was actually there. They were talking to her again. 

Anthony nudged Mr. Fell, who looked rather upset at being there. 

“Dear, must I?”

The receiving glare was answer enough. 

“Yes, I understand,” Mr. Fell sighed. He turned to her. “My dear–”

“Angel!”

Jess and Mr. Fell both startled at the snap. Anthony’s glare intensified, and so did Mr. Fell’s fidgeting. 

“Ms. Jess,” he corrected. “I wanted to apologize for insulting your scones. It was rather rude of me. They were delicious.”

Jess felt that the conversation was happening backwards. She was the one who needed to apologize after her horrible accusations. Mr. Fell might have been frustrating, but that was nothing compared to her actions. She should be begging for forgiveness. 

“It’s fine,” she said instead. 

“It was not,” Mr. Fell corrected. “It was rude. You worked very hard on those scones and I belittled you. More than that, I insulted  _ you. _ You’re a very kind person, and I apologize for my words and actions.” 

Anthony was nodding along with Mr. Fell’s words. “Yeah, you’re great. Make good coffee.”

“I don’t always make it,” she answered mindlessly. “I mean–thanks. For apologizing. And for coming back. I’m sorry for what I said.”

“Great!” Anthony clapped their hands. “So! How about that coffee?”

Jess grinned. “It’s on the house.”

“Jess.” 

Anthony’s glare was back. Mr. Fell looked between the two of them blankly, unaware of why Anthony became so stern and why she was grinning like a loon. 

“Take the money.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Jess, take the money or else.”

“No.” 

Anthony and Jess both lunged for the tip jar. She just barely got to it first, running behind the counter. Anthony looked ready to jump the counter to thrust the bills at her.

Myles ignored all of this. He continued to make the black coffee for Anthony and the hot chocolate for Angel.

Anthony and Mr. Fell left together, holding hands. 

The next day, Anthony and Mr. Fell came in at exactly noon. 

Jess had their drinks ready. Anthony blushed at the hearts on the hot chocolate and gave the drink to his Angel. Mr. Fell leaned forward and kissed once on the cheek. 

She smiled at the two of them. 

Whoever made Anthony happy was good enough for Jess.

**Author's Note:**

> Was this out of character? Possibly. Is this how you should react when you find out your friend/customer is a mafia spouse? Probably not. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! You can find me at [cleverlittlejay.tumblr.com/](https://cleverlittlejay.tumblr.com/) for more GO stuff! And come say hi if you want!


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